always
by SameroniLB
Summary: Dean is beautiful like this, Sam thinks. He's downright gorgeous. [submissive!bottom!dean, dominant!top!sam, evil!sam, drabble, d/s, not beta'd at all]


Dean is beautiful like this, Sam thinks. He's downright _gorgeous_.

He's wearing one of Sam's larger button ups, the deep blue plaid hanging open and bunching on his arms that are held high above his head, crossed at the wrist and tied. Sweat glistens on his chest as he heaved for air, ragged pants falling from his swollen, spit slick lips. Sam appreciatively skimmed the bow shape of them, groaning under his breath because _fuck_ does Dean have pretty lips, perfect for cock sucking.

Dean was sitting up, back pressing against the head board as the ropes which held his wrists together had been attached to a metal loop coming out of the wall. Sam recently put it up there, no idea why the imagery of his brother leaning against a head board completely debauched got to him so well. He just went with it most days.

Dean had his legs drawn close to his chest and spread, nothing covering his arousal. Sam smiled with mirth at the flushed red cock which pressed tight against Dean's belly, a thin stream of precome slicking the head. His ass was on perfect display, his hole bright pink and looking impossibly small, each clench of anticipation the muscle gave heightening Sam's pulse. The younger Winchester took his time appraising every detail, licking his lips as he eyed up Dean's fit chest, ending with a shudder when he reached the tied man's face.

As much as he loved watching Dean's vibrant green eyes go from conscious to glazed and wrecked, he decided to try something new tonight. Something he's been meaning to do for some time. It was most definitely a good idea, if by the way his dick twitched in his jeans at the sight of the silk black cloth wrapped around his brothers head was any indication. He really liked the idea of Dean blindfolded and tied down, being forced to just take what Sam was giving, being only allowed to feel everything Sam did.

More than liked, because hell Dean never looked better.

Sam couldn't do much but stand at the edge of the bed, eyeing Dean's body and trying his best to control the storm raging inside of him. If he wasn't careful this would be over too soon and it took forever just to get Dean to even talk about wearing the damn blindfold, and now that he was Sam would ruin the night before it really even started.

He pressed the heel of his palm against the bulge in his jeans, trying to rid himself of some pressure before he blew his load from just watching his Dean fidget and tug at his bonds, pretty green eyes concealed in black and tongue swiping over his plush lower lip, a nervous habit.

"Sam?" Dean said quietly, voice soft and breathless and _damn _did he sound wrecked already, Sam biting back a groan as he moved forward onto the bed.

"I'm here Dean." He responded, moving onto his knees as he shuffled forwards, hands gently stroking up his brother's calves, rubbing at the knees before swooping down the thighs. Dean struggled to push towards the touch, a strange, high pitched sound leaving him as Sam's calloused hands danced over his sensitive flesh. Dean was begging for it already with his body, which didn't cause much surprise considering Sam had been keeping him on edge for some time now.

Just on the crest of release, just one more little push and Dean would cry out in the crescent of release but Sam's been careful, pulling away when he knew Dean was close. Sam wanted this to last, wanted to show Dean how good it could be if he just gave Sam the reigns for a bit, put down the control he so desperately held onto and let someone else make the decisions. Let someone else take care of him. He wanted, _needed_ Dean to know Sam could do this for him, bring him to the brink where pleasure and pain greyed and mixed then pull him right back down, put him back together with soft careful touches and soothing words.

"Sammy, I…" Whatever Dean was going to say was stopped short by a gentle kiss pressed to his lips, Sam pulling back before it could deepen. Dean strained to follow him, mouth hanging open to let pants and soft whines he would deny later spill out. His toes curled into the sheets and his legs shook with every breath, and yeah, this was definitely a good idea.

"I got you, Dean, sh, its okay baby, its okay." Sam soothed, running his hands idly up Dean's sides, thumbs just barely grazing pert nipples. They were red and swollen, Sam previously playing them before getting Dean just far gone enough to get the silk wrapped around his eyes without much fight. By then Dean would agree to anything he wanted him to do, Sam was sure of it.

Sam let one hand caress Dean's jawline and cheek, heart flooding with warmth when his pretty little big brother pushed into the movement. His other hand trailed teasing touches along Dean's cock, shushing his cries with one finger pressing against those plush lips. Dean opened right up, tongue dancing across the finger and Sam moaned lowly, pushing it further into Dean's mouth.

Sam's breath grew ragged as Dean sucked with enthusiasm, tongue running along the length of his finger and gratefully accepting another, groaning around them. He watched as those perfect lips wrapped around them, pink flesh of tongue peeking out and he had to stop this right now before he came in his pants like a teenager.

He reluctantly pulled his fingers from Dean's mouth, soothing his cries with a soft touch to his hair. Shushing his brother to soft whines, Sam leaned back to rest on his heels, body zinging with adrenaline as every filthy thing he's ever wanted to do to Dean flashed neon in his mind. He could do anything right now, _anything_, and Dean would have no choice but to let it happen, take Sam's offerings.

Sam, certain in his ideas, knew that everything he was going to do would not be stopped. Knew that no matter how depraved or wrong, Dean would gratefully follow along, loyal and lost and looking to Sam for guidance in the storm of everything _right_ and everything _wrong_. Just the thought of Dean forgone and thinking only of Sam made the younger Winchester hitch in breath, conscious a fog of possessive claim and hands itching to _taketaketake_.

He was positive Dean's only response would be to give.

He wanted to reach deep and dark into Dean, the vulnerable soft parts where his brother hides the most of himself and take it for his own, mold it to his form so he can fit in. Smoothen the jagged shards of Dean's hopes and dreams, mend them back together and rekindle what he can, fix the pain and soothe the fear. Sam wanted to make everything better for Dean, never wanted him to ever be hurt or worried or scared ever again.

Sam wanted to hold and protect him, wanted so much for Dean. Wanted the world for Dean. Would take the world for him. He would sacrifice thousands if it meant his brother's happiness, would give himself over to misery a hundred times over if Dean could have peace.

Let himself fall to the title he was born under, let himself go dark side and become the crowned boyking of hell. All of it, for Dean.

As much as Dean could never say no to Sam, it ran likewise. How could Sam ignore the spell that charmed everyone wherever Dean went? Too many to count gave under the charisma and beauty of Dean, and Sam, always trailing after big brother, always in awe and carefully contained want, how could he have possibly stood a chance to find resistance? This was always meant to happen, all their choices, all of their decisions, it only helped lead the way to here. These quiet moments where one gives and one takes.

Where they share pleasure and pain and pretend the world isn't burning around them. Flames, imperceptible to all those but them, rotting the core of the world and Sam would be damned –is damned- if his precious brother goes down with the blind public. Sheep to the shepherd, pigs to the butcher, Sam would be above them all. He would take the cradle, hold the knife and rod and lead, Dean by his side and safe from all the corruption and filth the new world would herald. Sam would keep him safe. Never let anything happen to Dean.

"Sammy?" And as Dean's voice, soft and uncertain, filled the void of Sam's mind he knew he would keep his promises. Dean would be held above them all, safe and sound and always loyal, happy and peaceful and ready to give when Sam needed to take. Perfect and beautiful.

"I got you Dean." Sam replied, dark and deep and he meant it. He leant down and pressed a meaningful kiss to Dean's forehead, kissing every inch until he landed his brother's lips and whispered words of praise and promise into the depths of Dean's mouth. His brother understood nothing of it, only able to comprehend Sam's hands on his flesh, Sam filling him deep and making him feel safe, worthy, only aware of _SamSamSam_ around him, in him, everywhere.

"_I got you_." And Sam does, could never lose him, because then _Sam _would be lost. He needed Dean as much as Dean needed him. He would ensure it would never be different, no matter what he would have to do.


End file.
